


the art of war

by 18021994 (marythecloud94)



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Basically, Dream SMP War Spin-Off, Gen, don't @ me about the names, eret is a bigass evil mastermind, it's set in some weird medieval limbo, the style is entirely too pompous i agree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:01:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25999420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marythecloud94/pseuds/18021994
Summary: "Satire is best done with a straight fucking face." - Sun Tzu,The Art of WarOr, the events of the L'Manberg War if it was real life and Eret played his cards right.
Comments: 32
Kudos: 149





	1. the villain

**Author's Note:**

> once i heard dream used to write YA novels, i realised that i've spent four years of my life writing fanfiction and it was all for this

_ Day one _

The man entered the nation not on foot, but within a carriage without horses. The people glimpsed its sheer power as it rode up the hills with ease, wondered at the thundering noise it made. They saw the man within and averted their eyes quickly - they knew he was not from around here. They knew he was not from around  _ now _ .

The man was a mystery.

He settled in a quaint valley. A river passed through it, with waters deep, and the man bathed in it. The children watched, hidden between the trees and weeds, and wondered what he came for. Then the man began his way towards the city, and the children scurried off.

He walked the roads with sorrow bound in his step. His feet hit the worn wood slowly, and his eyes never rose onto the horizon. He watched his step as if the ground could collapse under him, and gently carried himself through the maze of winding paths. When the man reached the lawyer’s office, he stopped short and entered. The folks shielded their prying eyes and waited.

It was between the sweltering hours of noon, and time seemed to still.

***

Thomas had heard of the man - he had heard his name whispered with both reverence and disgust, had heard the noise of his curious machine. He had wondered what the man would look like. Wilbur Soot.

Nothing could have prepared him for those eyes - they were a King’s.

“Good afternoon, sir. What brings you to my office?”

Wilbur smiled. Thomas watched him stride the length of the room in large strides, confidence flowering with every step. “Business, Thomas. Are you, by any chance, interested in a change?”

“What kind of business are we talking about?” Thomas asked. He shifted slowly in his seat, then shot a look at Tubbo, his colleague. He saw his own apprehension mirrored in the young man’s eyes. “I hope it’s nothing of the shady kind, good sir.”

The man’s laugh was honeyed, yet still turbulent. “I am a man of honour, Thomas. Expect only the good from me.”

Thomas narrowed his eyes. “Does your honour lie with the law, sir? If not, I’m afraid you’ll have to do without my help.”

“The law, Thomas,” Wilbur drawled. His smile was sharp and fiery, reminding Thomas of his own passion. His passion, before he came to Esempí, before he left his home. “Does  _ your heart  _ lie with the law?”

Thomas recognised the blasphemy within the question. He looked it in the eye, studied its stance, glowered at its creator and tried to undo the weave of his words. He opened his mouth to answer, but the words stuck to his throat.

It was Tubbo who broke the silence. “What is your goal, Wilbur?”

The mention of his name startled the man, Thomas noticed. His head turned slowly towards Tubbo, but the passion in them wasn’t as pure - it was cloudy with something Thomas didn’t understand. “Monopoly, Tubbo,” Wilbur answered. “Control over the potion industry.”

His answer was rather simple, rather… lacking. Thomas sighed. “The truth will uncover itself,” he whispered. When he looked at Tubbo, he noticed his fists were clenched atop his thighs. “Wilbur, good sir. I’ll do business with you - as partners. Please notify me when and where to show.”

***

_ Day two _

_ Caravan _ \- that was what Wilbur Soot called his curious carriage.

Thomas felt wary when he first stepped within. His eyes wandered over the multitude of levers and protrusions; alas, he could not grasp their use. Wilbur stood next to a door and studied Thomas closely, his eyes laden with playfulness and a dangerous sort of secrecy -  _ complicity _ , Thomas recalled. That was the path he had chosen.

He stepped closer to the door, and Wilbur opened it. It revealed a large interior, furnished with austere chairs and counters upon which rested various supplies - ring stands, convoluted tubing, alcohol burners. The image of them unsettled Thomas. He looked at Wilbur Soot and marvelled at the man’s devotion. 

“In the back, I have chests full of raw materials, Thomas. I’ve come to you with everything you can desire,” Wilbur informed. Stood next to the door, he looked all the more dangerous.

Thomas felt suffocated, yet  _ alive _ . “What do you need  _ me _ for, then, Soot?”

The curls that fell in Wilbur’s eyes were healthy and clean - a peculiar sight within Esempí. “I need men from within, Thomas - men that have the folks’ trust. I’m an outsider.”

Thomas nodded, his eyes stuck to the floor of the caravan. It was scattered with chemical burns and ashes. “I’m afraid  _ he _ is the folks’ trust. And  _ he _ will not allow this, Wilbur.” The mention of  _ him _ quietened the room.

Wilbur’s hand lay heavily on Thomas’ shoulder. “I agree that man is green with greed, Thomas.” His voice was strong, fearless even. Thomas spared him a glance. “But we cannot give up before we’ve begun.”

Oh, how Thomas wanted to believe him. “He will tear you whole, Wilbur, and all you’ve ever loved will go down as well. He is the only  _ dream _ to be had around here.”

Wilbur scoffed with boyish arrogance. His smile stretched from ear to ear, his brows knitted with ambition. A beautiful sight, by all means, designed to draw everything in.

“Oh, Thomas, my dear. Dream will soon realise I’ve brought with me all the nightmares I could carry.”

***

_ The green man. The hope. The masked one. The ruler. The King. _

Dream had many names. He was  _ the man _ more than Wilbur Soot was. He loved his nation as one would love the stars, and he had sworn to protect its light with his own heart. 

When he saw the caravan trudge up the hills, he knew it was an omen.

His heart was soon to be tested.

***

_ Day three _

_ Dear Thomas, _

_ I know it is dangerous to see me. I know you are afraid that doing business with me will bring upon you his wrath. I know, so I will refrain from inviting you to the caravan. Instead, I’ll write to you and hope you will be willing to continue helping me. _

_ Thomas, seizing control of the potion industry is hard. Esempí’s folks are master brewers, and the whole continent trusts it. I wish I could do this fairly, but this web is much too intricate to navigate. Thus, I need you to forget your honour for once. I need you to lie in my name. I promise great rewards for it, however. You will see. _

_ I believe the only way to infiltrate within the industry is to pitch a forged story to the newspaper press. We need to taint its reputation, burn it down, then rise among its ashes. It is a sombre plan, I admit it. And yet, I put my hopes in you. _

_ The story, I’ve written it all down. Leave it with Fundy - the man trusts me and believes in the same thing as us. He believes in life, liberty, and the pursuit of freedom. You may trust him as well. We are of the same roots, and we will bloom with the same flower. _

_ Believe, my dear Thomas, and trust in me. _

_ Wilbur Soot _

***

_ Day four _

“This is blasphemy,” Sapnapius muttered. The newspaper sat folded onto the table, glaring lies painted all over it.  _ Lethal side-effects blatantly overlooked in the Esempí potion industry - up-and-rising producer vouches for their own elixirs _ . “Who let this article go through?”

Dream had his head lied atop his open palms, fingers digging in his skin. “We don’t  _ control _ the newspapers, Sapnapius.” His voice was mellow, borderline distracted. “The voice of the people ought to be free. Never forget that.”

Sapnapius scoffed. “Yeah, and look at how the  _ people _ reward you.” 

“This couldn’t have come from the people.” George lay on the hard stone floor, his hands and legs outstretched. “The folks trust the potions. This is the work of a usurper.”

Dream’s nod was curt. “Indeed. Who could it be, though? Place your bets.”

“Up-and-rising producer,” George laughed. “I couldn’t have said it better, to be honest.”

Sapnapius frowned. “I could.  _ Enemy _ .”

“Let’s not go too far too soon,” Dream huffed. “This new producer… I’ve heard he’s come to do business.” His lips were drawn into a scowl, barely visible behind his mask. “We just have to convince them we’re the right people to do business with.”

Sapnapius watched George get up slowly, his eyes trained on the back of Dream’s head. “He looks to be quite the lone wolf,” he remarked. “And his intentions appear to be  _ against _ us.”

Dream nodded. “Do you think ruling a kingdom is easy, George?”

“No.” The answer was simple, yet it seemed to dial down the light of the candles around them. “The odds are harsher than usual, however. I don’t see this going down peacefully.”

Dream’s chuckle resonated throughout the room. “Indeed, not peacefully. Peace is never an option in Esempí.” The lights drooped to sleep, then, chilling the air gently. “However, I’ve sworn to never again fight wars against my own people. I’m bound to respect that promise.”

Sapnapius watched him draw his mask away. He saw his narrowed eyes were the colour of lush meadows and wondered -  _ what does all this mean? _

***

Tubbo despised the caravan. 

He despised its  _ buttons _ , its levers, its tinted windows and the smell of rot which permeated the air. He despised how their hushed words bounced off the walls and echoed illicitly. He despised the fitful glances they all shared between them - all but Wilbur Soot, who stood proudly in his chair. His back was straight, his voice was sure, his eyes were  _ alive _ . 

Tubbo had always despised the taste of  _ revolution _ . He knew it was bitter and sour and foul.

“This isn’t just about the potions, my friends,” Wilbur said; no, he monologued. “This is about our hearts, our lives - I know you all come from the other side of the ocean, the same way I do. And I know many more do, as well.” His eyes followed each one of them, closely, carefully. He was alike to a mirror, reflecting your own emotions in his eyes, painting himself a relatable image - one you would be drawn to. 

He smiled, suddenly. “I believe it is time to reclaim what’s rightfully ours.” The silence left in those words’ wake was gaping, a negative vacuum of thoughts, hopes, and wishes.

A knock on the door broke the spell.

***

Wilbur Soot himself opened the caravan door. He stood tall, yet slouched, relaxed, the last light of the sunset warming his features. His smile was easy and welcoming. Sapnapius felt a grumble in his stomach - he was hungry to see this valley burn.

“Hello, sir. What brings you to my humble den?”

Sapnapius measured the words carefully. “I heard you came for business in Esempí,” he informed curtly. “And so, I came to do business with you.”

Soot’s eyes were sharp; unruly curls couldn’t hide it. “I don’t remember looking for partners, good sir. Were you, perhaps, motivated by the newspapers?”

Sapnapius gave a nod. There was no reason to speak more.

A small laugh in response. “I don’t think you should trust the papers that much, uh -”

_ Demanding _ \- that’s what that pause was. “Sapnapius,” he relented.

“Sapnapius,” Soot nodded. “That name’s not from around here, now is it?”

Sapnapius could feel the frown knitting between his brows, sharper and sharper. “I am a citizen of Esempí. It doesn’t matter where my name is from,” he said, troubled by his own anger. He could not find a way to extinguish it. “Back to business - why don’t you want to work with  _ Dream _ ?”

The name fell not unlike a bomb.

“I expected the King to attempt to infiltrate,” Soot drawled. His smile sharpened. “I didn’t expect him to be this blunt. It’s honestly a shame.”

Sapnapius chuckled. “So your intentions are indeed foul.”

Wilbur Soot nodded. “Anarchy and revolution. Independence. I came to reclaim it all.”

“Very well, then. We shall meet again.” Sapnapius nodded in goodbye, then spit upon the doorstep of the caravan.

He had stepped over the bridge when he heard a voice he knew so  _ dearly _ .

“This time, I’ll win, you bastard!”

Sapnapius grinned but didn’t turn towards the voice. He didn’t need to see him to know his face.

_ “Thomas Innit, we meet again,”  _ he thought.

***

Only few knew of the third King.

His presence was elusive. When he walked the streets, the torches’ light shied away from him. His eyes were covered, as well, and his mouth stretched in a flat line at all times. His path always led straight to the ruler’s den.

It was as if the maze of streets welcomed him.

One lonely soul awaited the third King in that dead of night - none other than the ruler himself.

***

_ Day five _

No attack came after Sapnapius left.

Instead, there came a man.

Wilbur Soot had settled within the bounds of the valley. He had begun producing potions and taking care of the immigrants of Esempí - of those who were like him, who missed the rainy coasts across the ocean. His family grew like that, and then, there came a man.

The man came with the morning. He roused no one from their sleep, instead crept around the houses until he knocked on Wilbur’s door. The knock itself was gentle - it rang of hope.

Wilbur smiled despite himself when he saw the man.

“May we drink some tea, my good friend?”

Oh, he liked the man already.

***

“You have become King, Wilbur,” Eret drawled. The tea clasped between his hands was steaming gently, mixed with hard, creamy alcohol and a few drops of milk. “The people here, they don’t look towards Dream anymore, they look and love  _ you _ .”

Wilbur’s ego swam happily between the waves of compliments. “Still, how can you be so sure?” he asked, eyes narrowed. “How do you know the green man won’t come to slit my throat tonight? And if not tonight, then tomorrow?”

Eret guffawed. “Oh, Wilbur, dear. Dream’s a menace and he surely loves to look for trouble, but he won’t risk a civil war.” He sipped his tea slowly, his eyes obscured by his bizarre glasses. “And, besides, his favourite strategy is the Trojan horse.”

“He already tried that,” Wilbur nodded. “It seemed like a rookie mistake, really.”

Eret’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “That doesn’t sound like the Dream I know,” he mused. “Wilbur, friend… either that was a ruse, and the danger is nigh, or you’re the real challenge. Nevertheless, I want to stand by your side, if you’ll let me.”

The words had been so sweet on Eret’s tongue, and Wilbur yearned to trust them. Slowly, he nodded and thrust a hand towards the other man. “I want you in my revolution, Eret, my good friend.”

_ That smile _ . “And I’d love to ease your path towards success.”

Their hands shook in smiles and trustful silence.

***

_ Day eight _

_ L’Manberg _ .

The walls were rising. A flag was draped over the gates, flaunting all they had built. A tricolour laden with three X’s, it carried the burnt smell of concrete in the summer. As the sun set, the air chilled and pin-pricked Sapnapius’ skin.

_ The war was near, once again. _

He looked up and saw  _ his _ King as he stood proudly on the mountaintop. His shoulders were wide and strong, his hair blew softly with the wind. The mask lay limply at his feet, its power lost to a whisper. George sat on the stone, calm, leaned back on his hands. 

The last of sunlight trembled around their silhouettes.

When Dream spoke, his voice was weighed by sorrow, yet it still tasted of quiet hope. “Look, George,” he bagan, and Sapnapius once again felt helpless. “Everything the light touches is our kingdom. A King’s time as ruler rises and falls like the sun.” 

Sapnapius craved to stifle the hesitation in his voice.

“One day, George, the sun will set on my time here.” Sapnapius glanced longingly as Dream crouched to retrieve his mask. His shoulders sagged, and the corners of his lips drew lower. His eyes reflected the purple sunset in fitful bursts. “And then, it will rise with  _ you _ as the new King.”

When he put on the mask, the sun gave out and welcomed one last quiet night.

***

_ Day nine _

Fundy felt the ground under L’Manberg rumble at midnight.

He looked around and admired the walls. They were tall and mighty, opulent even. Still, they could not overpower the weight of the papers he held tightly in his hand - they were heavy with carefully drawn signatures and words of utter power. They spelled pleas of freedom and were meant to urge the King to give way to their new nation.

Fundy locked eyes with Wilbur, with Thomas, with Tubbo, and nodded.

_ L’Manberg. _

Oh, how the ground rumbled with that name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come yell at me on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/cl0udnotfound), i beg you


	2. the man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh oh! welcome back <3 hope u enjoy
> 
> btw!! this is a spin-off, so remember that things will go down differently

_ Day ten _

Thomas had followed Wilbur outside the caravan.

They stood upon the shore of the river and cast their eyes upon their land, looking for the missing link - the deviation from their ideal. They looked far, until they reached the walls, then came back to see the river next to them. Still, they could not find it.

“Thomas,” Wilbur began, then, his voice mellowed by quiet sparks of happiness. “Thomas, look around. Tell me what you see.”

Thomas did. He looked once, twice, thrice, and every time, all he could see was greatness, power, quaintness. He saw the people lay down their sorrows to work, he saw the children play. He saw the tilled land, and his heart grew. 

And so, he began to sing.

_ I'd heard there was a secret chord _

_ That David played and it pleased the Lord, _

_ But you don't really care for music, do you? _

_ Well, it goes like this: _

_ The fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift, _

_ The baffled king composing Hallelujah _

_ Hallelujah, Hallelujah _

_ Hallelujah, Hallelujah _

And so, the people joined, their voices clear.

_ Well, your faith was strong but you needed proof; _

_ You saw her bathing on the roof, _

_ Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya. _

_ She tied you to the kitchen chair, _

_ She broke your throne and she cut your hair, _

_ And from your lips, she drew the Hallelujah _

_ Hallelujah, Hallelujah _

_ Hallelujah, Hallelujah _

***

**_Declaration of Independence_ **

**_Signed_ ** _ :  _ _ Wilbur, Soot | Tubbo, Undesco | Thomas, Innit | Eret, The _

_ Forever, the nation of Esempí has cast flagrant sins upon our great valley. They have robbed us, imprisoned us, threatened us. They have hurt many of our men. _

_ However, this time of tyranny ends with us. _

_ These words declare that the nation which shall henceforth be known as L'Manberg is separate, emancipated and independent of the nation of Esempí. It is the union of the masters of men. Together, we are one. When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one to dissolve the bonds which bind us, disregarding this truth is nothing short of tyranny. _

_ We hold these truths to be self evident. _

_ All people are created equal, and the right of the people exists above the right of the King, the right of the government, and the right of the economy. _

_ From the valley, we shall prevail. _

_ Life, liberty, and the pursuit of victory. _

***

Dream read the declaration printed proudly on the pages of the newspaper again and again.

He read it until he came to know it by heart. He took the words of traitors and made them his. He understood, in the end, what drove them, what their ambitions and goals were crafted of.

Eventually, the declaration became a simple poem, without rhyme, rhythm or tune, and his own words grew within him. He brought a piece of paper to the table and his dearest quill.

He began to write his own declaration.

***

_ Day eleven _

**_Declaration of War_ **

**_Signed:_ ** _ Dream, Wastook | George, Notfoù | Sapnapius, Pandas | Punzius, Twop _

_ Sometimes, war is imperative. Sometimes, it is derived from the very fundamentals of human nature. Sometimes, bloodshed is required for the truth to resurface. _

_ Thus, I, Dream Wastook, as the King of Esempi, must declare war on the nation of L'Manberg. _

***

_ Day fifteen _

L’Manberg had expected a war.

They had been preparing for it. The war was a harsh truth - it was digging shelters, training the young, collecting armour and weapons. And it was Wilbur Soot who had brought this atrocity upon his people. 

Thus, it would be him who would win their independence as well.

He had met up with his allies every night. He had whispered hopes and dreams to them, while he had not been sure of himself. He had gained their trust all over again, and on the fifteenth day, he felt ready.

Then, Fundy came through the gates. Wilbur had prayed it would be softer, then.

He stood on the shore once again and waited. When Fundy reached him, he felt forlorn. He listened with his head down as the story unraveled slowly.

_ “George and Punzius intercepted Tubbo and Thomas on their way back. They fought well, but they were still taken by surprise and unarmed - they were at a clear disadvantage. They ran to my office and I sheltered them, but it won’t be long until they die themselves or Dream sends his men to lynch them.” _

Questions hung heavily in the air.  _ What do we do, Wilbur Soot? Where’s your kingly plan? How can you save the ones who trusted you? _

***

_ Your Majesty, _

_ My name is Wilbur Soot. I am the founder and current leader of the nation of L’Manberg, as you very well know. I send you this letter as a plea. _

_ I wish I could avoid this - begging -, but the lives of my men are more important. Thus, I implore you to allow me to bring Thomas and Tubbo back in L’Manberg. They are wounded and need to be treated. Seeing as they were once your citizens, I believe you will be merciful and allow this. I can hope, at least.  _

_ If you’ll allow me to save their lives, I will agree to meet you on your terms. Send an envoy with a time and place, and I’ll be there to face you in fair war. _

_ With all due respect, _

_ Wilbur Soot _

***

Thomas leaned heavily on Wilbur’s shoulder. His legs felt weak, his thoughts distant. He had always wondered what it felt like to be drained of blood, and as he pressed against the wet bandages, he realised -

He had been close to finding out.

Still, Wilbur carried him through the maze of winding streets towards L’Manberg, and Thomas went - he was homesick. He glanced back at Tubbo, who leaned against Eret. He could see the sentiment reflected in his eyes.

They were barely open, but the yearning in them was fairly clear.

When they passed through the gate, their futures brightened. 

Thomas let Wilbur hand him over to a nurse. Then, he felt his blood run cold when he heard  _ his _ voice. 

“This is not an act of peace, Soot,” Dream shouted from the gates. “And don’t expect an envoy - I am as bad an omen as it gets.” His laughter turned the air chilly. Thomas closed his eyes and exhaled, feeling suddenly defeated.

“When and where do we fight, Dream?” Wilbur’s voice, however, still held hope and dignity. Thomas turned to glance at him and admired how tall he stood in the face of hate and death.

Dream’s mask was askew, Thomas noticed. His left eye was dark, and his smile could cut through steel. “In three days, I want you at the border. We’ll fight this on my terms - on my land, as you promised me.”

His words held a finality that agitated Thomas’ stomach.

War could not be won through words and dignity, he realised.

***

_ Day seventeen _

Fundy had wished for peace for his people. As the fire trembled before him, swallowing the lawyer’s office - Thomas’ and Tubbo’s office -, he felt wronged by his own destiny. The press of Punzius’ blade against his throat, too - it was an affront to his ideals.

“Fundy, I’ve always trusted you to make the right decisions,” Dream muttered. He stood in front of Fundy, who was on his knees, as if praying to the all-consuming fire. “I trusted you’d remember who brought you far away from the wars you were born into.”

Fundy swallowed, his eyes transfixed to the smile-masked man. He felt the blade draw closer.

Dream sighed. “I never thought you’d turn against me, that you’d breed another war, and yet… Here we are.” His voice was quiet, crackling like the wooden beams of the building. “I’ll spare your life, because you’re still dear to me. But I want you to take this message to Soot.”

Fundy gasped as he felt the blade draw blood. It was cold against his skin, cold and merciless.

“Tell him that we… Are at war.” The word felt meaningless against the backdrop of the unravelling hell before them. “We have no mercy for traitors. If I don’t see white flags outside L’Manberg by tomorrow, at dawn, I will spare your lives no more.”

He laughed.

“I am not a murderer, Fundy,” Dream whispered. Slowly, he came closer and untied the ribbon that held his mask up. “I’ve never been one, and Thomas can tell you that.” His eyes - oh, his eyes were deep blue and held a storm within them. “But this time, I won’t stop until I bury you all myself.”

Fundy wondered, quietly, if independence was worth it all.

***

_ Day eighteen _

Thomas had watched Wilbur Soot until they stepped foot into the battlefield.

He tried to understand it all.

And then, the ground collapsed under their feet.

Suddenly, they were running away, and arrows rained upon them. He heard them each hit the ground, and realised how different they sounded when they hit armour or flesh. He shuddered when he looked around himself and saw bodies fall, some wounded, some… dead. 

He wondered, quietly, if independence was worth it all.

***

Tubbo clutched his wounded arm and ran.

Ran for his life -

The arrow felt foreign - Tubbo thought it was buried deep but he couldn’t get himself to look at it. Instead, he followed Thomas’ head of blonde hair through the dust raised by the explosives. He couldn’t quite run because of the shock, but it wasn’t like anyone could.

Their small army moved sluggishly as the arrows rained on them, cherry-picking bodies to pierce.

Tubbo wondered, quietly, if independence was worth it all.

***

They were on enemy territory.

Wilbur couldn’t bring himself to care - he had lost men, most of the others were wounded, and he, himself, had an arrow stuck in his shoulder. His arm hung limply at his side - it hurt too much to move it.

“Go in the tower and prepare for an ambush!” he yelled as he ushered his men inside. “Don’t attack civilians, just find shelter!” 

Wilbur had no idea how to bring everyone back to L’Manberg in one piece.

When he saw Thomas and Tubbo approach, both wide-eyed in shock, Wilbur felt his heart shrink in his chest.  _ He _ had brought this upon them.

He gently pushed them inside before shutting the heavy door. Dream had retreated momentarily, even though he had no reason to, so they had a little time to strategise their escape. Wilbur didn’t think there was any way out.

It was Tubbo who spoke first in the panting silence. “Wilbur, we need to get to the top of the tower, and we need every man who can shoot an arrow to  _ do so _ .” His voice was loud, a tremor woven between his words. “We  _ need _ the high ground.”

That could be an escape - how did Wilbur not think of it first?

He nodded. “You're not a tall man, Tubbo, but you're nothing short of extraordinary either. Men, you heard him - get to the top of the tower! I’m getting you all back to L’Manberg even if it kills me!”

***

“Do we really have to go through all of this? We’re going to take them down from the inside anyway.”

Dream sighed and looked out on the makeshift battlefield. Wilbur Soot’s army shot arrows from Punzius’ tower, while his own army kept them at bay with their shields. They had left the tower unguarded for that exact reason - to give the impression of an advantage, to brew hope before robbing them off it. 

The marketplace where Dream stood was blown up by explosives - it had been the first attack.

He sighed. “George, this war isn’t about  _ killing _ people or winning battles.”

“Ah, yeah, sorry, I forgot it’s about comparing psychological dick sizes,” George scoffed. “I just want to blow up the fucking place, Dream.”

Dream shook his head slowly. “That leaves place for following revolutions, and it makes us look bad, too. We need to be merciful, George - that is, if we want the people to love us.”

George’s eyes were narrowed - for once, Dream wanted to take the mask off and show there was more to his words. “You’re not yourself right now,” George muttered. “You’re doing this as if you know you’ll lose, but that’s impossible.”

Dream shrugged, then raised his arm and yelled, “Retreat!”

***

Eret welcomed them at the gates.

Wilbur smiled when he saw him, when he saw the walls, and finally felt safe as he passed them. He was once again in L’Manberg, and he had time to strategise now. They had time to lick their wounds and come up with a solution. He had a better grasp of what Dream was capable of, and he had  _ hope _ .

When he dragged the last soldier inside, Eret came up to him.

“There’s no time to rest, Wilbur. Take that arrow out, get Thomas and Tubbo, find Fundy somehow, and come with me. We have to think quickly.”

Wilbur nodded.

***

_ Day nineteen _

It was past midnight when Eret led them through the tunnels.  _ A secret room _ , he had said.  _ We can gather our wits and think up our next attack there _ .

Tubbo had always felt safe with Eret, but, as he entered the small underground room, he found himself restless. The ceiling was low and dusty, small particles constantly falling around them, collecting in their hair, on their skin, their clothes and armour. It was suffocating.

Eret entered last. When he closed the door, the sound of the lock turning rang in the air like a bad omen. Tubbo looked around - everyone was still.

Eret’s smile was directed at Wilbur - a sharp thing, by all means, sharp and dangerous. Tubbo followed Eret’s hand with his eyes. He felt a chill run down his spine when it found a lever and pulled it.

The wall behind them groaned as it collapsed. Eret’s voice rang in the room.

“It was never meant to be.”

Tubbo turned and saw Dream, armed to the teeth, his mask smiling sardonically.

***

Wilbur felt himself become lightheaded.

“Soot, surrender now, or it’s all over.”

The room was very still - even the dust stopped flowing around them, and Wilbur’s heart ceased its errating beat for a handful of moments. Then, Eret pushed them all on their knees, one by one, and time started moving again.

“Soot, I said,  _ surrender _ .”

***

Thomas swallowed his own saliva.

Nothing moved - how could it, when Wilbur Soot, their  _ leader _ , was on his knees, a loaded crossbow pointed at his head. The arrow was still, for now, but Dream’s trigger finger trembled in anticipation.

Thomas looked back at Wilbur and saw his eyes morph into determination. He swallowed again, fearful of the words that would be uttered next in the small room.

“I know you won’t kill me,” Wilbur whispered; it was so loud between the dusty walls. “I know you won’t,” Wilbur smiled and slowly got up on his feet, somewhat bowed - the ceiling was too low for him, and Thomas craved to cling onto the symbolism hidden in that fact.

_ Dream had not shot Wilbur _ .

The sound that rang from behind Dream’s mask was almost inhuman - a low growl, filled with frustration. “Soot, don’t push your fucking luck.”

Wilbur himself laughed, but Thomas couldn’t quite understand its flavour. It wasn’t happy, it wasn’t hopeful - it was dry and cruel,  _ foreign _ if he considered the kind person it was coming from. “Get the fuck out of my L’Manberg, Dream. I don’t remember giving you a goddamn visa.” 

Eret’s voice interrupted the exchange. “I will be going back to Esempí, if you’ll excuse me.” He waltzed off between them, and Thomas felt himself freeze with  _ contempt _ . ”Dream, I’ll let you do the dirty business. I trust you’ll be effective and successful.”

“You fucked up, you bloody traitor,” Thomas dared to shout. He got up to his feet and took a step towards Eret’s retreating form before Tubbo clasped his hand and stopped him.

A loaded crossbow was pointed right at his face. The tip of it touched his nose lightly.

“Tommy,” Wilbur whispered. His hand was outstretched towards Thomas as well. “Tommy, calm.”

It was the first time Wilbut had called him that.

***

Wilbur let Eret disappear behind Dream before he breathed out in relief.

“Dream,” he whispered then, voice so much quieter. “I know you don’t want to do whatever  _ dirty business _ Eret’s asked you to.” 

He said it like a fact, because it was.

He looked closely as the line of Dream’s shoulders became more relaxed. “I’ll say it again, Soot, don’t push your fucking luck.” His voice had lost its bite, Wilbur noticed.

He wondered what the catch was here.

“Give us independence, Dream. We can live in peace.”

Dream shook his head, the smile of his mask becoming more pained with each movement. “There are a thousand revolutions waiting to ignite in Esempí, Wilbur. If I grant you independence, the empire will be split and weakened by next summer.”

“You’re not so scared of it, though. If you were, you would’ve killed us all by now.”

Those words seemed to do the job.

The crossbow lowered slowly, before Dream crouched to put it on the ground. He remained there, head slightly bowed. “Sit down, please. You too, Thomas.” Somehow, those words whispered in quiet abandon had made Dream the most kingly Wilbur had ever seen him.

“I’ll grant you independence,” Dream muttered. “But we’ll have to make it look like I was  _ forced _ to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops? :)
> 
> i'd love to hear what you think in the comments or on [twitter](https://twitter.com/cl0udnotfound)!!


	3. the king

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah who said i have to keep the original plotline pfft

_ Day twenty _

Sapnapius despised the gates of L’Manberg.

“Soot, I let you think about it for a day,” Dream shouted. Sapnapius glimpsed the way the sunset reflected on his mask. It was majestic, in a way,  _ kingly _ . “Now, I come to ask for your surrender! I won’t hesitate to blow L’Manberg myself if you don’t wave the white flag.”

Sapnapius let his eyes wander to Wilbur Soot. His left shoulder was patched up with bandages, and his face was pulled down with exertion. Still, when he shouted back, he was imposing. “Independence, or death, Dream! If we get no revolution, then we want nothing.” His voice echoed softly at the foot of the valley. “We would rather die than give in to you and join Esempí.”

Sapnapius wondered what it was that drove them - if it was pride, greed, or love. Looking at Wilbur’s slouched silhouette, then at Dream’s straight shoulders, he thought they were quite similar.

Devotion to a leader.

***

Wilbur watched the flaming arrow hit the ground as if it flew in slow-motion.

He had agreed to it, had known it would happen. He had shook hands with the enemy last night and thought of it as a necessary evil. As he watched his nation explode, however, he couldn’t remember what had driven him before.

***

Thomas looked behind himself and saw L’Manberg barely alive.

Barely hanging on a thread.

The crops were destroyed, the fountains had collapsed under the blow. The wooden houses had flames of fire licking their unsteady beams. The sun set as he charged the enemy.

His rage was supposed to be  _ acted out _ . Last night, he thought he’d have to fake it. Yet, as he reached Dream, it was truer than anything. It was  _ alive _ and breathing in his heart.

“Dream - Dream, you bastard, why don’t we -”

Wilbur was close to him, a hand clasped on his shoulder. “Tommy, please…”

Thomas had no time for that. “Why don’t we fight  _ right now _ , Dream? Just you and me, for our peace and independence!” 

The mask glistened back at him, the fire of L’Manberg reflecting off it.

“Tommy…”

“Just you and me, you bastard -”

Dream nodded with a dry laugh. “I’ll give you a fair chance, Thomas Innit, for old times’ sake. Tomorrow, at dawn, right here. 10 paces - whomever shoots the other one first wins.”

Thomas frowned - why had they allowed this man to take everything away from them? “Fine,” he spat. “Tomorrow, we decide the outcome of this war.”

***

Tubbo shivered next to the fire.

The heat of the summer was lost on him. His blood and courage had been tested too many times in too little days - he had nothing left to give away to the revolution but his own life.

Thomas sat down next to him, his hand settling gently on Tubbo’s shoulder, above his freshest wound. “Tubbo, don’t you worry about it. Tomorrow, we win.” He sounded so sure, but Tubbo couldn’t bring himself to trust it.

He didn’t want to give his life to the revolution.

***

That night, they sat atop the walls. Dream and his lacheys guffawed and growled like gargoyles until the sun went up, then they scurried off to prepare for the battle. 

Thomas wanted to win more than ever.

***

_ Day twenty-one _

The early hours of the morning were wet with dew and worry.

Thomas sighed and settled on a grass patch just outside the gates. Waiting for the duel, he felt unsure of himself. Looking east, towards Esempí, he saw the city rouse as the sun closed in on the horizon line. The people there… he had known them, had woken and gone to sleep with them for years. They had been like family to him back then.

Back when he didn’t wish to be more than he really was.

Back when the fate of a nation didn’t sit heavily upon his shoulders.

Wilbut sat down next to him. Thomas looked at him, saw that his eyes weren’t swimming in worry - rather, they were contemplating,  _ resigned _ . Hope felt like a foreign thing in the universes reflected in Wilbur Soot’s eyes.

“Wilbur,” Thomas started. His own voice was weak, somewhat sad. “Do I shoot him, Will? Or do I aim for the skies?” The words were askew on his tongue, in his voice.

Wilbur Soot’s sigh rang like a storm.

“Tommy… I want you to do whatever you - I want you to do whatever your heart says you  _ should _ do.” It was all waxed poetics on a canvas of tragedy, Thomas thought. “Thomas, I can’t tell you what to do - it’s your battle now, not mine, not ours.”

Thomas felt alone.

“How can I know he won’t put an arrow between my eyes, Will?” Thomas sighed again, his shoulders sagging. “How can I be sure he’ll hold up his part of the deal?”

Wilbur shrugged. “You know him better than I do, and you’ll be on the battlefield with him, Thomas. This time, no one can help you.” He looked at Thomas with his forlorn eyes, with his unruly curls and easy smile - he was the epitome of a leader, of a true warrior: quiet, carefree, and always inspiring everyone around him. “Thomas, I trust that you’ll know what to do.”

Thomas nodded slowly. When he glanced towards Esempí, he saw Dream approach, Eret on his left. “They’re here,” he said simply.

“Win this battle, Thomas. Like you were destined to.”

***

The King had ruled for many years. Every conflict, every responsibility had eroded him and left him nothing but an empty shell.

His eyes, however, remained as the last beacons of his ideals. Their colour was never of this realm - it was rather as if those irises were the dam over which his emotions spilt. It was red for fury, green for greed, and blue for sorrow.

Yet, when you saw them change to black… you were to run, for that was meant to be the raindrop that began the flood.

***

_ One. _

_ Two. _

_ Three. _

_ Four. _

_ Five. _

Thomas took his steps with care, Wilbur’s voice guiding him through the motions. He breathed in and out slowly, he felt his hands shake on the bow. The arrows hung heavily on his shoulder.

_ Six. _

_ Seven. _

_ Eight. _

_ Nine. _

He had to win.

_ Ten paces, fire! _

Thomas turned and saw Dream had taken off his mask. His eyes were dark, and within the moment Thomas questioned the meaning hidden behind them, an arrow was already headed towards him.

Thomas ducked.

***

Thomas’ own arrow pierced Dream so close to his heart.

He fell on his back between the dewy blades of grass. The sky spun above him and shades of blue and pink muddled by the greys of early dawn. Yells of victory grumbled and roared around him, and he smiled softly.

He wondered if Thomas had shot to  _ kill _ .

He realised it did not matter. The bets had just been dealt, and the independence of L’Manberg was the reward. Dream’s life had been an easy price to pay for Wilbur Soot and his people.

“I didn’t think you’d be this weak of a shot.” Eret’s voice was a heavy drawl. When Dream glanced at him, he realised he had paid the price of his life long before Thomas had shot his arrow.

***

Wilbur Soot was king.

That day, they celebrated. They danced and sang and they ate and drank and, then, they laughed until they were all embodied happiness.

The buildings were askew and the ground was splotched with holes from the explosives. Still, their celebrations did not cease before sundown. As the sun ran above them, hurrying to get to distant places, they ran through L’Manberg as if to catch it.

Wilbut Soot was king.

***

_ Day twenty-two _

It was a dark night.

Dream rested on his bed and stared at the star-heavy sky through the large windows. He remembered the arrow piercing his chest every time he closed his eyes, so he did not sleep. He simply followed the stars on their slow night stroll against the void behind them.

As the hands of the clock neared three a.m, Dream realised he was waiting for something. His tiredness had become a deafening thing, while the constant pain in his chest subsided, and the stars were slower than they should’ve been.

He realised they were stalling, almost as if they were waiting for something as well.

Eret came through the doors at a quarter past three.

“You were lucky to survive that,” he whispered, and the hairs on Dream’s arms rose. “If anything had gone a little differently, you’d have died on the ground, coughing blood.”

Dream nodded. “I’ve always been favoured by fate, I suppose,” he muttered. “What do I owe this visit to, Eret?”

Eret hummed. “Business, of course. Our deal.”

“Our deal stands no more - L’Manberg has won independence.” Dream felt his breath stall in his chest.

Eret sat down on the edge of the bed before answering. “I did do my part of the deal, though. You’re the one who lost the war, not me.” He inhaled before continuing. “I should still be King.”

Dream felt his heartbeat pick up.

“You’ll die anyway. It’s better to have a successor than leave it to blind fate.”

When Eret’s hand moved, he was holding a sharp blade, his knuckles white around the handle. Moonlight glistened along the edge, the prelude of a tragedy.

“Don’t kill a wounded man, Eret,” Dream sighed. “Especially when that man is King. It is, after all, an act of treason.”

Eret’s laugh was chilling. When he took his peculiar glasses off, the look in his eyes was deeply satisfied. “You’ve done worse, I’m sure of it,” he whispered, and his blade came closer to Dream’s chest. “Why would L’Manberg wish for independence otherwise?” 

The tip of the blade rested just above Dream’s midriff.

“You are a villain, Dream. Don’t fool yourself into thinking otherwise.”

Dream breathed out. He realised he was about to face a slow death, and not a painless one. As the blade sheathed between the layers of his ribcage, he looked in Eret’s eyes.

“You will not rule in peace, Eret.”

***

_ Day twenty-five _

Sapnapius entered the gates of L’Manberg and found Wilbur Soot on the riverbank.

“I didn’t see you at the funeral.”

Wilbur looked up with empty eyes. “Indeed, I didn’t attend.” His voice was weak, as well. “I couldn’t shoulder the blame, Sapnapius.”

Sapnapius shook his head slowly. “It wasn’t Thomas’ arrow, Soot.” Slowly, he sat down next to Wilbur, his eyes not following the slow flow of the river. “Dream was assassinated.”

Silence fell for many minutes.

“Eret will eradicate us all, won’t he?”

Sapnapius nodded. “We must act before he finds allies. While he is alone, he is weak.”

When he looked again at Wilbur, he saw his features were narrowed with determination. “Dream allowed us independence, Sapnapius. He allowed us to win.”

“I know. Now, it’s time to pay back that debt.”

***

_ Day twenty-six _

The man entered the nation not on foot, but on horseback. 

He came from the east, at once with the sun. The people watched him ride slowly through the intricate turns and knots of the narrow streets, and scurried free of his path. They knew he was not from around here. They knew he was not from around  _ now _ .

They somehow knew he wanted to be king, as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was it!! uwu tell me your thoughts in the comments or on [twitter](https://twitter.com/cl0udnotfound)!!
> 
> also, **100 KUDOS AND I'LL REVEAL THE MYSTERIOUS MAN AND WRITE A SEQUEL!!!**


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